My original plan was to stay on the Gringo trail by sleeping at a hostel called El Retiro in Lanquin, a nearby town, as suggested by the Lonely Planet (sometimes easy is appealing). I opted for tourist transport through a tour company ran by a guy I had befriended in Coban, and was picked up around 8am by this crazy, space-age looking shuttle van with HUGE windows--or maybe it was closer to a bus--but either way, they packed all of us tourists in like sardines. There were even bucket seats that folded down to fill the middle aisle, ensuring that every possible space for a person to sit was taken. I felt more like a tourist on this day than most other days, because this bus was loaded with individuals and families who were obviously on vacation, not a several-month long venture. I made small talk with the gal who ended up sitting in front of me in one of those bucket seats, but that only lasted so long before we were all hypnotized by the ride and deep into the thoughts of our own little worlds...
When we arrived to Lanquin, about half of the bus crowd got off and the other half stayed on to finish out the half-hour long ride to Semuc Champey itself. I had paid for a ticket to Lanquin, so I stepped off the bus and was handed my backpack from the roof of the van-bus-rocket thing. As I was standing there, observing and listening to the other travelers around me, hoping to pick up on something that may be of benefit to me (as I often did upon arrival to a new place--it pays to be patient and eavesdrop), the bus driver came up and told me that El Retiro was full for the night and that I should just hop back on the bus and go all the way to the park. I was used to having to change my plans around, but I had no idea what to expect from the hostels/hotels next to the park and the last thing I wanted to do was pay an arm and a leg for a place to sleep in a tourist trap. But at the same time, I welcomed yet another opportunity to go into a situation blindly so I took my seat and put my trust into the driver. This time, on one of the terribly uncomfortable bucket seats in the middle aisle.
A lot of the time on my trip I didn't have the patience, or the energy, to seek out a place on my own without the help of my guidebook. After sitting on a bus for hours and lugging around all of my worldly possessions in the heat or the rain, the last thing that ever sounded appealing to me was to wander around a new city or town in hope of finding the best place to stay. Using the Lonely Planet has its advantages and disadvantages, though. The nicest thing about it is that when you show up at a place suggested by the book, it is almost guaranteed that you will meet other travelers there and you have an idea of what you can expect upon arrival. However, what I like least about doing this is that these places seem to all raise their prices once in the Lonely Planet because they know people will keep coming, and that it takes away from the authenticity and adventurous nature of your travels. Finding a place on your own, actually having to work for it, is how I imagine real traveling to be. Yet, it's so easy to take the easy way out and that's why the books are written in the first place, right? To save you what could take hours and cause multiple headaches along the way?
Luckily for me the bus driver told me exactly where to stay; it ended up being better than I could have ever imagined and, it was not in the Lonely Planet. Perfect. This hostel, called El Portal, is about a 30 second walk to the entrance of Semuc Champey and sits right on the river. The girl whom I had sat behind on the bus, an American, and her Aussie boyfriend also got off here so the three of us ended up in the same 4-person dorm, the upstairs portion of a large A-frame structure with a thatched roof and walls. At this point in my trip I was in go-mode and felt restless after having stuck in and around Xela, Lake Atitlan and Antigua for so long. I didn't have the patience to sit around anymore, so I decided that I'd go ahead and spend the rest of my afternoon in the park instead of waiting until the next day like the others were doing. It looked like it might rain and I only had a few hours of daylight left, but I was feeling the need to move.
View of hostel from across the river--my room was up top.
On a walk...
Still on a walk...I entered the park by myself and asked the guy at the entrance (in my broken Spanish) which was the best direction to head. The park has a trail system that loops around and takes you by a lookout point and then down to river and main attraction, a 300 meter long naturally formed limestone bridge where the river suddenly disappears underground and then comes rushing back out on the other end. So, as suggested by the park employee, I headed uphill and to the left toward the lookout. I began the steep ascent up underneath the thick canopy of tropical forest that made it seem much darker outside than it actually was. This was no easy climb and I often had to grab onto a rock, roots, or the branches of a tree in order to pull myself up the steep muddy trail. But the fatigue and pain in my legs and lungs were well worth the view at the top...
This was definitely one of those moments where you are so in awe of what you are looking at, hardly believing that what you are looking at is real, that you just sit in silence and stare. I finally began my descent after staring at those turquoise pools long enough to make me want to jump in them immediately. Shortly after I had reached the lookout I was joined by two other guys, an Israeli and a Canadian, so we ended up reaching the bottom at the same time and venturing into the pools together. The view was far better from above, but just knowing what you were swimming in actually looked like made it that much more exciting...
A general idea of how the water flows underground.
The park didn't take nearly as much time as expected, so I arrived back to the hostel with plenty of daylight to spare (but not without first stopping outside the entrance to watch this cute little pig playing with some dogs, acting just like a dog itself--it was quite amusing). I know, I know, it's a pig...
After a quick bite to eat and a nice chat with an Israeli woman who was about to embark on 25 hours of fasting for Yom Kippur with her husband, I met up with the American/Aussie couple back in our room and we just sat around talking for a while. Then out of nowhere, this adorable little girl who must have been about five years old showed up at our doorway selling homemade chocolate wrapped in tinfoil for Q5 (less than $0.75). For those of you who know me well, you know it's a rare occasion that I turn down the opportunity to eat chocolate. And, this little girl was so irresistibly cute that I just had to fork up the money. The best part was that she ended up sitting at the top of the steps to our room for about twenty minutes, putting on a show for us while we took pictures of her (don't worry, we asked permission). She loved the attention, though...
As I mentioned earlier, I was in go-mode. I had already visited the park and didn't want to go swimming in the caves (most people cringe when they hear I skipped out on that part), so I decided I'd keep things going and head out early the next morning to Flores and the Mayan ruins of Tikal...
No comments:
Post a Comment